


I Give Your Heart a Home

by TheMipstaz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Hurt Malia, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Protective Kira, Some Humor, Tumblr Prompt, Witches, mushy feelings at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous requested: will you write angsty malira with hurt and/or kidnapped Malia?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Give Your Heart a Home

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://nevergooutofstiles.tumblr.com/post/137327509285/will-you-write-angsty-malira-with-hurt-andor). Title from the [Ella Eyre song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eK5mH9oF7T4).

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

“I mean,” sneers the witch, leaning as far forward as the thick ropes binding her to the metal chair allow, “she’s probably halfway Canada by now. You wouldn’t believe how much the warlocks up there will pay for coyote teeth. You’ll never see your pretty little girlfriend ag—”

The witch spews blood all over Kira’s new sneakers, but the satisfying ache in her knuckles from the punch is more than enough compensation.

“Kira!” Scott admonishes, quickly yanking her back before she can wind up her fist again. “Stop!”

Stiles just shoots her a thumbs up, which has Lydia shoving an elbow into his ribs.

Kira practically vibrates with rage, too furious to say anything. But dark, murky terror is slowly eclipsing the initial burst of anger. Gone are her hopes of a quick trek through the preserve to find the scent trail that would lead her back to Malia in a few short hours. Her chest constricts tightly. She isn’t sure if the burning in her eyes is her kitsune acting up or tears threatening to fall.

“Kira,” Scott says, voice quiet but firm, “we’ll find her. Malia will be fine.”

“I know,” Kira chokes out, hating how trembly she feels just at the thought of Malia already being hours away. They haven’t been officially going out for long, about a month, but their bond runs deeper than most. Malia has been at her side through her worst days, knows what it’s like to feel out of control, but accepts Kira anyways. Malia doesn’t give a shit that Kira sometimes feels overwhelmed by her kitsune powers or that Kira is bumbly and awkward and secretly a huge geek. And in return, Kira doesn’t care that Malia can be blunt or even unintentionally mean or that Malia speaks her mind boldly without fear of ramifications.

Sometimes people look at them questioningly, clearly puzzled by how two very different people came together. But didn’t Stiles always say that sometimes the best combinations are the ones that nobody ever thinks will be good together?

Kira takes a deep, steadying breath. The air around her crackles with electricity before settling, coiled and controlled like a storm waiting to break. She repeats, “I know,” and her voice doesn’t waver.

* * *

Malia can say she has honestly never been more happy to see Kira than in that moment, which is saying something because Malia has seen her girlfriend naked. But that’s beside the point, the point being that her very-attractive-with-or-without-clothes girlfriend has just yanked open the back door to the U-Haul truck Malia has been stuck in for the past who knows how long.

The surge of excitement and automatic butterflies doing acrobatic flips in her stomach are almost enough to drown out the fierce pains plaguing Malia’s body. She might not know the exact number of hours since the witches ambushed her out in the preserve after school, but the dizzying hunger clawing at her stomach and parched mouth are good indicators.

Malia squints at the blinding light in her eyes as the truck door opens with a clang. But her nose works just fine; Malia would recognize that familiar scent, sharp lightning and flowery shampoo, anywhere.

“Kira?” croaks Malia, throat dry as sandpaper. That’s what her tongue feels like too. She struggles to sit up from where she’s slumped haphazardly on the cold metal. The sticky half-dried blood she’s been laying in for the past couple hours makes Malia grimace as she peels herself off and winces with every movement. Seems like her broken ribs still haven’t properly healed yet.

“Malia!” Kira barely manages to hold back from throwing herself at Malia.

Once Liam hauls the door all the way up, the sunlight streams into the otherwise pitch black truck. She claps a hand over her mouth in horror at the grim tableau. “Oh, Malia,” she whispers at the mottled bruises and spectacular black eye. For the first time, she notices the overpowering stench of coppery blood.

“Shit,” Stiles agrees succinctly when he catches sight of the unnatural angle Malia’s leg is stuck in. “Mason, call Deaton.”

“Why isn’t she healing?” Hayden murmurs as Scott hops up into the truck to gather Malia in his arms. She whimpers as he jostles the wrist cradled close to her chest.

“They turned Malia temporarily human?” Scott frowns several hours later, forehead creasing as he considers this new piece of knowledge.

Deaton nods, humming as he examines Malia on the metal exam table in his office. Kira hovers anxiously over his shoulder while Mason pokes at the myriad jars of ground herbs and mysterious looking liquids Deaton has pulled out. “There are traces of magic on her and—” he slaps Mason’s too-curious hands away “—she’s not healing like she should as a shifter.”

“That could mean anything,” challenges Stiles.

“She also can’t shift,” continues Deaton, stepping back and throwing the bloody rag he used to wipe away the worst of the blood into the sink.

Malia blinks in surprise at this diagnosis and, predictably, flicks her hand out like Scott taught her. But no claws appear.

“Scott,” Malia stage whispers, eyes owl-wide, “ _Scott_ , I think my claws are broken. I think the witches _broke my claws_. What do I do?” She frantically waves her hands around, face aghast.

Stiles sniggers, “You sure you got that painkiller dose right, Doc?”

Before he can answer, Malia notices Kira’s worried gaze poking up behind Deaton’s back. “Kira, you look sad,” she says, voice too loud and tongue tripping over the words. “You should never be sad. You’re too pretty to be sad.”

She makes grabby hands and a needy noise in the back of her throat. Deaton obligingly steps aside so Kira can hop up on the metal table. They link hands, Kira’s smiling blinding. Malia can’t help the content rumble deep in her chest as Kira presses in close.

Mason _Awww_ ’s while snapping a pic with his phone. He then proceeds to take a follow-up video for his Snapchat story of Malia petting Kira’s hair and telling her she smells good while Kira giggles helplessly.

“I recommend,” Deaton adds—ignoring Stiles gagging, “Get a damn room!”—“that you take her to the hospital for some proper casts and stitches. There’s only so much a vet can do before you need real medical professionals.”

“How long until she’s back to normal?” Scott persists, worriedly watching Malia’s horrified face as Liam pretends to detach and reattach his thumb before her very eyes. Kira swats at Liam, then reassures her teary-eyed girlfriend that Liam’s appendage is just fine and no they don’t need Deaton to look at it.

Deaton just shrugs, peeling off his latex gloves. “I’m not sure. I could probably find some sort of counter-spell if it doesn’t go away on its own in a week or so.”

A loud crack of shattering glass interrupts Scott’s next remark. He and Deaton both whirl around to see a wide-eyed Mason frozen with his hand rummaging around in a cabinet on the wall. The broken jar of mountain ash lays incriminatingly at his feet, a small cloud of grey powder billowing in the air.

“Oops?” Mason offers weakly while Liam snorts with laughter.

“Perhaps,” Deaton says dryly, “you and your pack should take Malia to the hospital now.”

* * *

Fortunately, the painkillers wear off by the time Melissa manages to squeeze in time to see them. Unfortunately, lucid Malia is much less excited by the prospect of x-rays and Liam’s stepdad putting a cast on her leg.

She demands to hold Kira’s hand throughout the entire process, but only growls at Dr. Geyer four times, so Kira counts it as a win.

* * *

“I really thought I’d lost you,” Kira murmurs. The only response is the steady beeping of the heart monitor beside Malia’s bed.

Visiting hours were over at 9, and the rest of the pack dutily filed out. But Melissa had taken one look at Kira’s distraught face and relented.

“Fifteen more minutes,” Melissa warned sternly, flipping off the light and closing the door. That was 25 minutes ago. Now Kira knows where Scott got his kind heart from. Although that’s not a hard conclusion to come to after spending about 5 minutes tops in the presence of the douchcanoe—Stiles’ words, not hers—that is Rafael McCall.

Malia’s out cold, her fingers reassuringly warm in Kira’s grasp. Kira bites her bottom lip, face softening at how lax and calm Malia looks in sleep even with the shiner.

“When I saw you in that truck with all that blood, you scared the bejeezus out of me.” Their intertwined hands begin to shake, and Kira has to let out a stuttering breath before she can carry on, “I’ve never lost anybody close to me before. Even my _obachan*_ died when I was too young to really know her well.”

The sheets rustle and Malia’s hand squeezes Kira’s gently. “I would never leave you.” Her eyes shine a faint blue in the dark.

“I know, but aren’t you,” Kira gulps, “afraid?”

“Every day.” Malia turns on her side so she can look at Kira without cricking her neck and admits, “This place is way worse than the woods.”

“Do you ever… think about going back?” Kira holds her breath, unsure if she wants the answer now that the words have escaped her mouth. The quiet envelops them, cutting them off from the rest of the world for that crucial moment.

“Sometimes,” Malia finally confesses, voice barely above a whisper, “but I never could.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Malia’s face is open and earnest, her response unhesitant. “Being human is hard as hell, but it brought me to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> *obachan: "grandmother" in Japanese


End file.
